


From Here 'Til Underverse Come

by Jedi Buttercup (jedibuttercup)



Category: The Chronicles of Riddick (2004), The Chronicles of Riddick Series
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arranged Marriage, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Pre-Relationship, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-09
Updated: 2018-09-09
Packaged: 2019-07-05 23:47:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15874194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jedibuttercup/pseuds/Jedi%20Buttercup
Summary: She was the only Necromonger woman he'd yet heard speak, the only one of all of their people who'd looked and found what she saw worthy of consideration.  Riddick could almost have respected that, if he hadn't been waiting for the other shoe to drop.





	From Here 'Til Underverse Come

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Hyx_Sydin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hyx_Sydin/gifts).



Riddick couldn't have said when the woman joined the crowd in the Basilica's throne room. Only that she was there when it mattered. Like a lot of women in his life. Except that this one really _was_ the better killer. 

Well, there had to be a first time for everything.

At first, he'd been too preoccupied with his ambush to take a deep scan of the background players, hoping to at least take a bite out of the Necromonger leader before coming to grips with him. He'd known the fucker wouldn't be easy prey, but the distance he covered after the man caught and flung him through the crowd of courtiers still came as an unpleasant surprise. And after he retrieved his blade and looked up to reassess ... well, he only had eyes for _one_ woman, and that was the hooded wraith of the girl he'd failed twice over, standing at the Lord Marshal's side.

But sometime after that moment – between the asshole's last obnoxious attempt to convert him, and finally getting down to business – he caught sight of the woman he'd called beautiful, standing in the shadow of the throne. Dressed in the same monochrome aesthetic as the regular soldiers, but with a distinctly feminine touch – necklace like a dagger hanging between sharply framed breasts; a net of shiny scales bristling from upswept hair – she was the only Necromonger woman he'd yet heard speak, the only one of all of their people who'd looked and found what she saw worthy of consideration. 

It was why he'd been curious enough to follow, when she'd coaxed him into the Basilica the first time; the sharp-edged deliberation underlying the honeyed seduction. And it was what drew his attention to her again, after Kyra's attempt to intervene ended in another body flung across the hall. Somehow, she'd managed to place herself exactly between Kyra's path and the spiked column to the left of the throne. For someone who'd just been used as an unwilling cushion, she had an awfully self-satisfied curl to her mouth; almost as if either way things fell out, she'd count it a victory.

Riddick struggled back to his feet, determined to recover before the Lord Marshal got Kyra's spear out of his back – but the Necromonger commander who'd been on Crematoria joined them on the throne room floor, and then things got _really_ interesting. The Lord Marshal asked Vaako for help, and the commander swung on him instead; the Half-Dead fucker blurred into silver smoke, lunging toward the weapon he'd dropped when Kyra stabbed him; Riddick trapped the polearm under his foot, and swung his knife toward the ghostly, forming face in front of him....

And somehow, while both weapons were still in mid-arc, blades descending toward where the Lord Marshal _was_ and also where he _would be_ , the woman they'd _all_ dismissed surged up again in one smooth motion. The slender metal spike clasped in her hand went in just under the hinge of the Lord Marshal's jaw, above the protection of the corselet around his throat, just where the great blood vessels throbbed closest to the surface ... and tore. 

Her prey tried to complete the movement anyway, but failed somewhere in between, clutching his ghostly throat with a look of disbelief while Riddick's knife and Vaako's halberd both struck sparks on empty floor. Most of the blood missed the woman, but one drop lingered on her blade, running down to stain the decorative gauntlet clasped around her wrist. She smiled viciously as silence rippled through the Necromongers' ranks, then coolly met Vaako's gaze.

"Did I not tell you the timing must be flawless?" she said, triumph in every line of her body.

Riddick could almost have respected the manipulation inherent in that question if he hadn't been waiting for the other shoe to drop. Tying Vaako's fate to hers; making sure everyone knew she'd been the dominant partner in the evening's treason. Only one thing left to do: neutralize him, next.

As if she'd been reading his mind, she glanced toward him, still smiling as she reached out with her free hand to pull a still-dazed Kyra to her feet. "I couldn't have done it without you both."

Riddick's grip tightened on the knife. If it hadn't been for Kyra, he'd have tried for her next – but with a hostage at her elbow, there wasn't much he could do. Not if he wanted Kyra, at least, to make it out of there alive.

"Didn't do it for you," he growled back through clenched teeth.

"Oh, I know; I would hardly expect a _breeder_ to care about the best interests of the Faith," she replied, laughing as if he'd just told the funniest joke in the 'verse. "But the motivation hardly matters, if the end is achieved. Isn't that so, _my dear former husband_ ," she continued, turning that knife's-edge smirk on Vaako once more.

Vaako swallowed, pale throat working; the _husband_ thing might have been news to Riddick, but it seemed the _former_ part was to him. "Dame Vaako...."

"Ah, ah; Dame Vaako no longer," she chided him, as if reminding an errant child. "Or do I need to tell _you_ to remember your place? Such a shame, if your ever-zealous guardianship of the Faith should ... _suffer_ , over such a simple matter."

There was a threat somewhere in there; Vaako swallowed again, acknowledging it, then slowly inclined his head and dropped to one knee. "Lord Marshal," he replied, almost choking on the words.

As if the whole room had been waiting for him to make a decision, the courtiers who'd frozen like stunned mice when the former Lord Marshal went down each dropped to their knees in turn: a wave of obeisance radiating outward from the throne, parting around Riddick like a stone in the surf.

Worship by any other name. Her expression was almost exalted as she took it all in: the intense satisfaction of someone who'd achieved a lifelong goal, and planned to enjoy the absolute fuck out of it. At the expense of _anyone_ who got in her way. 

"First Among Commanders," she replied, gracious now that she had what she wanted. Then she gestured languidly to a couple of other Necromongers dressed similar to Vaako, linked her arm more firmly through Kyra's, and sashayed off without a backward look. 

Kyra did look back, skin still ashen-pale, expression bleak; her lips parted in a whisper Riddick could barely hear as the new Lord Marshal towed her out of the room.

_You keep what you kill._

Looked like he was going to be sticking around a little longer than he'd planned.

* * *

Riddick had half-expected to end up in another prison cell, if he survived the assassination attempt; and he hadn't much expected to survive. One on one, he would pit himself against any soldier, any hundred soldiers, who'd numb their own instincts in favor of brute endurance – but he was one against an army, and death was what they did for a living.

He hadn't been expecting _indifference_. Conversation sprang up as the new Lord Marshal walked out of the room, but no one tried to include him – or Vaako, who set his jaw grimly as he watched his ex walk off with the other commanders. They just went on about their business, acting as if the two still-armed men had gone invisible. Even the corpse got more attention; two attendants, dressed in ornate flowing fabrics rather than the far more common armor, put it on a stretcher and carried it off to whatever end Necros met when they died out of Due Time.

Riddick thumbed his blade where it had nicked the old Lord Marshal's cheek, and tested the tackiness of the blood, wondering where to go from there. Still human enough, for all the man had done to himself; Vaako's would probably be the same. He'd been cheated of one prey; what more would it cost him to take the next best thing instead? Or would the new Lord Marshal think of it as doing _her_ a favor?

Vaako turned and met his gaze before he could arrive at a conclusion, face set in a scowl. "This is _your_ fault," he spat.

" _My_ fault?" Riddick lifted his brows at him. "Unless this whole visit was an unpleasant hallucination, you were trying to kill that guy every bit as much as I was."

Vaako took a long step toward him, fingers twitching on the grip of his weapon. "Because of _you_. Because of _her_." He gestured unerringly toward a balcony overlooking the throne room floor; when Riddick glanced up to track the target, he caught only a glimpse of fluttering white and a disturbed, pursed mouth before the Imam's Elemental friend floated back out of view.

Riddick frowned, tapping the flat of his knife against his palm. "She tried to tell me a story, back on Helion Prime. Waste of air. I didn't come here because I'm a Furyan; I came here for Kyra. Maybe I shoulda been thinking about the one who brought Kyra to _him_ , instead."

Vaako ignored the blatant hint, taking another stride across the floor. A couple more, and he'd be within easy knife-reach; but he was no fool. He stopped just a few feet away, eyes like dark, ashy holes in his face. "Maybe you should have been thinking about the one who pointed the Lord Marshal at Furya in the first place. The prophecy made him fear; and fear is a weakness the Faith cannot afford. But he would not have shown that fear if you had not been in a position to cause it. Then _or_ now."

All that lovely anger, reduced such a mundane cause: finally seeing his idol's feet of clay. Riddick sneered back, disappointed, letting the knife droop at his side. Would hardly be sporting to cut the man's throat for _that_ ; the tang of disillusioned righteousness always spoiled the blood.

"Still don't see how that's my problem. Or even a problem at all. First Among Commanders sounds like a pretty prestigious title. And somehow I doubt you have to worry about _that_ one being weak." He tipped his head the exit the former Dame Vaako had taken.

Vaako gave a mirthless chuckle. "Quite the opposite, actually. And I suspect we'll soon see. Irgun was also a commander, before you killed him. If you intend to be of any further use to your ... friend, I suggest you prepare to take up such duties."

The image of himself in Necro armor wasn't as foreign as it would have been, before Riddick had donned a copy to set his ambush; but the idea of fighting in it? _Leading_ in it? "I wasn't good with orders even _before_ my first betrayal. Kyra's one of you now. Maybe I'll just slaughter my way to one of your dropships, find myself a new world to hide on."

Vaako glanced around at that half-threat, but the throne room had already largely cleared; the few that were left were still not meeting either his or Riddick's eyes. Vaako snorted, then opened his hand, finally letting the polearm he was carrying clatter to the floor. "Suit yourself," he said, then smirked, a sharp expression not coincidentally reminiscent of his ex-wife's. "But if you think Dame Vaako – Lord Marshal Ibris, I should say – will let the Elemental's bounty on you lapse, now that the purpose it served in bringing you here is gone, think again."

He said nothing else, turning to stalk away deeper into the ship. Already adapting from his disappointment, like a cat landing on its feet. Riddick tapped the blade of his knife against his palm again, casting his gaze where the previous Lord Marshal had fallen; only a few drops of blood remained to show his failure of imagination.

Choices, choices. Stay and risk being civilized? Leave, and lose both Kyra and any hope of ever finding the homeworld the Necros had obliterated ... apparently at the word of an Elemental? 

Riddick glanced back up toward the balcony again, a bitter taste on the back of his tongue, and chuckled ruefully to himself. Well, he was nothing if not adaptable. They'd never get _him_ on one of those convert racks, but if he could learn enough to undo what had been done to Kyra....

He sheathed the knife back in his boot, then followed. Why the fuck not? The more he learned about this fucked-up culture, the better to use against them.

* * *

Vaako realized he was following after a few turns of the corridor, but didn't bother to hang back for Riddick to catch up. He led him to a room that looked like the quarters of someone with some standing; they differed from the ostentatiousness he'd seen among the leaders of Helion Prime only in their monochrome color scheme.

The former Lord and Dame Vaako's quarters, if Riddick didn't miss his guess. Ballsy of the man to go there, given what had happened. Not really a surprise, though; of all the Necros he'd met so far, only four had shown any spark of real emotion. And two of those were dead now.

"Changed your mind, I see?" Vaako asked once the door had closed behind them, the words nearly as barbed and honeyed as his ex's.

"Not so's you'd notice," Riddick bared his teeth. "But I got a few questions. And I figure she'll want a word with you in private, sooner or later."

"She won't bring your friend here," Vaako cautioned.

"I got time." He shrugged. "As long as you people still eat and drink and shit to go with the fucking – because I know you still fuck. Why else still marry? The way you use 'breeder' like an insult, I figure you're not all that concerned with the next generation."

"We have no lack of converts." Vaako inclined his head, eyes narrowed. "Most worlds yield their crop. And attachment ... doesn't tend to survive the purification process. But we do marry for power."

"And power's not something she currently lacks," Riddick snorted. "Must sting, getting rejected in favor of a crown."

Vaako's mouth twisted, and he looked away. "Loyalty 'til Underverse come," he said, like it was a quote. "But clearly, my observation of the Faith was not the truest, today. We will still reach the Threshold under her hand, and that is what matters."

Religion again; and just when things had started to get more interesting. "If you say so," he replied, curling his lip.

"Of course he says so," another voice replied, as the door slid open once more. "I used to wonder how he could not see the greatness in himself that I did; until I realized, finally, that I was only deluding myself that it was ever there in the first place. He was born to follow. Fortunately, I still have use for that."

The new Lord Marshal wasn't alone; but as Vaako had predicted, she didn't have Kyra with her. Or any of the others he'd identified as commanders. Just enough oversized bodyguards to make overpowering her a risky prospect.

"And for me?" he challenged her.

"I _could_ use those instincts of yours. But only if I could trust you," she said, making a tsk'ing noise. "All the loyalty in one; all the fire in the other. Fortunately, we _do_ marry for power." Her eyes glittered with amusement; clearly, she'd had the rooms bugged somehow. Probably always had; he doubted it was new.

Vaako hissed under his breath, and looked like he wanted to say something, but choked it back at the look on her face. 

" _Never_ will I be told to know my place again," she added, fiercely. "So now your fate will be tied to one who doesn't even know _how_. Do your duty, and his little friend won't suffer for it."

Before Riddick could ask why the hell Vaako should care about _that_ , she turned to him with a sharp, secretive smile. "Fight for the Faith, and I'll grant him authority over the Purifier, and all other religious matters in my stead. For as long as you _keep_ fighting. If you fail, I'll put Krone in his place."

Vaako's jaw clenched hard enough Riddick could hear his teeth grinding. The only thing Riddick had left to care about, against the thing Vaako apparently cared for most – given into the other's care.

"And one more thing." She slunk forward, lifting her fingers to press against Vaako's chin, turning his profile to better take in the black fury of his mood. "The more you succeed, the more hands-off I'll be; but if either of you fails? It'll count for both."

She didn't lay hands on Riddick the way she had Vaako, but she did take a moment to study his expression, too. By tying them together, she forced them to keep each other in check; building her base without much personal cost. They both knew it; and _she_ now knew they knew it. Smart. 

... Except for one thing. Well, two.

"As the Lord Marshal wills it," Vaako said, throwing Riddick a furious look.

"As the Lord Marshal wills it," Riddick drawled, amused.

"Good. I'll announce it at the next commanders' meeting. Do settle him in for me, Vaako?" All benevolence again, she slunk back out of the room, taking the guards with her.

... The thing was. Pitting them against each other only worked so long as they were fundamentally on opposite sides. But there was obviously a spine still in there somewhere, and she'd practically gift-wrapped it for him. Riddick might hate God, but belief he understood. That, he could use.

And then there was the fact that Kyra wasn't a vulnerable twelve-year-old anymore. _That_ should be interesting to watch.

"So." He shook his head, wryly. "You were saying, about Necromonger marriage?"

It didn't hurt that Vaako's snarl was a beautiful thing ... and it had been a damn long five years.

If nothing else, at least the _next_ few years wouldn't be boring.


End file.
